


together alone

by Areiton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Cooking, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Pining, Quarantine, Sebastian Stan can't cook, and some BBQ because Mackie said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He backed up the video, listened again, and yep--that’s what he said.Chris moaned, “Baby,no.”
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 184





	together alone

**Author's Note:**

> Someone annoyed me on Tumblr and Seb amused me (as always) so here have a thing.

“What?” 

The whole house echoed with silence, Dodger’s nails clicking on the floor the only background noise. 

That and Sebastian’s voice, tinny and distorted and beloved.  _ Just put some olive oil on it, some mustard.  _

He backed up the video, listened again, and yep--that’s what he said. 

Chris moaned, “Baby,  _ no.”  _

_ ~*~  _

The doorman leaves packages by his door. He scoots them inside and lets them sits, for the most part, because quarantine means leaving packages alone for a few days and frankly most of them are scripts he doesn’t feel a real  _ pressing _ need to read right now. 

His agent thinks he should. That’s why he keeps sending the damn things. Sebastian thinks now is the perfect time to write and nap. 

He yawns, and eyes the packages and frowns. 

There’s one on top that isn’t from his agent. The handwriting is familiar, sends a spiral of aching  _ want _ through him, and he reaches for his phone. 

The phone rings four times before Seb realizes that it’s stupid early in California. 

“Hey,” Chris breathes, warm and deep and sleepy. 

“You sent me a box,” Seb says, dumbly, and his eyes are hot and pricking, and that’s dumb  _ too.  _

Chris shouldn’t be able to reduce him to tears just by answering the goddamn  _ phone.  _

“You open it yet?” Chris asks, a little bit more alert. 

“Gotta let it sit, you know that,” he says, staring at it. 

“‘M not gonna tell you what’s in it.’ 

“Tease,” Seb says, soft, without any bite, any innuendo. 

Chris hears it, anyway. What he isn’t saying. 

“I miss you too, you know,” he says, and Seb’s eyes prickle again. 

“I didn’t say I missed you,” he says, because they don’t say that. 

This thing--this on and off casual  _ thing _ has always been fun. It’s never been about messy emotions and  _ missing _ each other. 

“You don’t need to,” Chris says, and Seb bites his lip. 

Chris has always been the bravest man he knows, and he thinks this--this is just one more piece of that. 

~*~ 

He opens his door around five the next day to find a greasy sack of BBQ and a box of a dozen cupcakes. The note is simple and makes him grin as he licks frosting from the first cupcake. 

_ Man, you gonna eat mustard on chicken, it better be a mustard based BBQ sauce.  _

He reaches for his phone and texts Mackie, a single word. 

_ Thanks.  _

~*~ 

The three days he waits to open the package from Chris seems endless. He eats the cupcakes and then feels awful about every choice he’s ever made. He writes, but it’s listless, unproductive. He works out, and calls his mom, and stares at the box for long stretches of time while Netflix plays fucking Tiger King. 

He takes a meeting with Mackie and Spellman, and three with his agent, and a session with his therapist. 

He even sits in on Don’s workout, and that helps a little, pushes back the walls and the endless looming days. 

He doesn’t open the package. 

And he doesn’t contact Chris. 

~*~ 

The box is small and his hands tremble as he opens it. 

There’s a faded notebook inside, something worn and well used, and a folded slip of paper on top, and he lifts both out carefully. 

_ When I got my first place, Ma wrote down all my the staples of my childhood and sent the recipes with me. I have them in another book now--she got organized by the time Scott moved out--but this little book taught me to cook and kept me from bein’ too lonely.  _

“You ass,” he whispers, and wipes at his face, dashing away the tears that he can’t keep from falling. He thumbs through the book, laughing softly when it falls open to lasagna. Chris is almost unbearably cliche, sometimes, and Seb loves that about him. 

The thought takes his breath away, the same way it does every time he thinks it. 

He loves Chris. 

He’s loved Chris for so long now it doesn’t scare him, not the way it probably  _ should.  _

He holds this piece of Chris, this little bit of of what makes him  _ Chris,  _ and he smiles, and his heart  _ aches _ it is so full. 

~*~ 

“Hey,” Seb says, and Chris smiles, pausing in the middle of making a sandwich. His voice is thick and wet, and Chris wants to hold him so much it hurts. 

“Did you open it?” he asks, and holds his breath. 

Because this is overstepping, this is more than they agreed to, this is offering up his heart on a platter and praying that Seb will take it, and--

“I miss you too,” Seb says, quietly, and Chris closes his eyes. 

He knows how Seb’s struggled with those words. He wonders if Seb hears what Chris is saying every time he murmurs them. 

_ I love you.  _

“Soon as this is over, I’m gonna fly to the city and spend a week cooking for you,” Chris murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Seb breathes, and the smile in his voice is so bright Chris can almost  _ feel  _ it. 

Soon. Soon. 

“Soon,” he promises. 

**Author's Note:**

> And then, at some indeterminate date shortly after quarantine ends, Chris shows up at Seb's door. Seb greets him with a giant pan of burnt lasagna and blurts out, _I love you._  
>  He MEANT to say, _I missed you_ but this is better. Chris agrees.


End file.
